Chapter 45

 

 

The bell on the shop door jumped and jangled as Robert Catto pushed it open. Behind the counter serving a customer, Christian Rankeillor looked up.

‘Captain Catto. I shall be with you as soon as I have finished serving this lady.’

‘Of course.’ He walked over to stand in front of one of the windows, gazing out at Infirmary Street. He was wearing his grey military cloak today, sweeping down from his shoulders. Once the transaction was completed, he held the door open for the woman before walking back to stand in front of the counter.

‘I have come to take my leave of you. I thought it was safe enough to come to the front of the house today. I suppose I should also take my leave of your father.’

‘He’s visiting a patient. I’m not sure when he’ll be back. How is your ankle?’

‘Much better. As is my shoulder. Your father gave me some salve to apply. Please pass on my thanks. I don’t think I was very gracious at the time. Should you be back working in the shop?’

‘I’m fine. Apart from being driven mad by being fussed over and tiptoed around. I needed the distraction.’

‘You got my second note?’

‘Yes. Mr and Mrs Livingstone’s son Michael delivered it. How are they all out at Colinton? Is Geordie upset about you going away?’ She caught herself on. ‘That was a stupid question, was it not?’

‘He and I went out into the garden and had a private talk. Man to man. I told him I was relying on him to be strong and keep everyone else strong. I think that helped. I hope it did. Oh, and I taught him a new word. Gobbledygook.’

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘The legal documents? What did they say when you explained what they meant?’

After he had described the scene, she raised one hand to her face to blot the single tear rolling down her cheek. ‘That’s something we’ve achieved.’

‘Aye,’ he agreed, and had to cough to clear his throat. ‘As to how they are otherwise, Mrs Liddell tell me Geordie’s back is healing well. He seems already to be seeing himself as the man of the house. Though I think Joshua might give him a run for his money there. They are both making themselves useful. All of which amuses Archie Liddell, who confessed he has often worried about his mother being lonely now he longer lives with her. Alice is quiet, as ever, but Archie’s mother is kind. The Lord President is going to make her an allowance. Modest, but enough to cover the costs of feeding the new members of the household. Until it can be decided where their future might lie.’

‘We shall help them too. In whatever way we can.’

‘I know you will.’

‘Did Geordie wish you auf wiedersehen?’

‘Yes.’ Then, urgently: ‘Come out to the physic garden with me, Kirsty. Please.’

 

Betty studied her for a moment before she spoke. Catto had already gone through to the back lobby, was waiting for Christian there. ‘All right, I’ll mind the shop. Dinna ging intae the summer hoose. And put your cloak on. It’s a cold morning.’

‘Nothing’s going to happen, Betty. We won’t be out there for long.’

Besides which, what you fear most has already happened. And I think you know that.

 

‘The Lord President is ruthless, is he not?’ she said, seeing her breath turn white in the cold air. Saw his do the same when he replied.

‘He’s that all right.’ They were walking away from the back door, past the outhouses, heading for the physic garden beyond.

‘Cruel might be another word.’

‘He does what he thinks is best for Scotland. Always. Whatever the cost.’

‘A cost you and I must bear. For the sake of the orphans of the storm.’

‘He knew neither of us would be able to stand against that.’

As they walked along one of the gravel paths leading to the summer house in the centre of the physic garden, she stopped, pushed back the front of her blue cloak and slid her hand into the pocket under her skirts.

‘I should give the luckenbooth back to you.’ She took in a quick little breath. ‘I wish I had given you a silver coin in exchange for it!’

He turned towards her and took her by the wrist, bringing her hand out of her pocket. ‘Keep it, Kirsty. Please keep it. Perhaps you might tuck it away in a drawer. Bring it out now and again and give it a polish. Think of me. Think of us.’

‘I do not need a piece of silver to make me think of you. Nor can there be any us. Not any more.’ She looked up at him. ‘We were most definitely moonstruck. Were we not?’

‘Give me your other hand,’ he said, already reaching for it. ‘Cup them both. Like so.’

‘You did this before. When you came back from Eastfield and we agreed we would try to weather the storm together. When you put your heart into my hands. For safe-keeping.’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I did. It’s still there. It always will be.’

‘But the storm has swept us away too.’ Her voice was laden with sorrow. ‘Shipwrecked and scattered our fleet. And we cannot see the moon.’

‘We can look up at the sky and know it’s there. Your hands are cold. Let us keep walking. ’Tis too cold to stand still.’

‘When does your ship sail?’

‘Tomorrow. I am bid to sup with the Lord President tonight. I have only to gather together my belongings and head down to Musselburgh this afternoon. He is going to see me off from Leith.’

‘To make sure you’ve really gone this time?’

They had reached the little pagoda which was the summer house. A wooden bench stood against one side of it, still white with frost which had not yet thawed. Despite what he’d said about it being too cold to stand still, he did exactly that, folding his arms under the grey cloak, pushing out its sides. His eyes ranged over the summer house.

‘Do you often sit in here?’

‘In the summer, yes.’

‘Reading? Or drawing?’

‘Both. With a book or a sketchpad open on my lap.’

‘You draw the garden, the flowers and the herbs?’

‘Often. When I’m inside the summer house I usually draw from memory.’

He looked at her. ‘Will you draw me again – from memory?’

‘I don’t know. I never gave you copies of the drawings I did make of you. Or the one I did of myself. Artistically draped,’ she added softly.

‘Pity.’ He gave her the saddest of smiles. ‘I should like to have had that one.’ Sliding one hand under his cloak and into the breast pocket of his frockcoat, he brought out a small packet. ‘Sunflower seeds.’

‘I remember.’ One of the symbols of the Stuarts and the Jacobite Cause, they had been a message, a query as to where his sympathies lay. ‘You never had the opportunity to plant them.’

‘Maybe you would plant them for me.’ He held the packet out to her.

Her eyes went from it to his face. ‘In remembrance of you?’

‘In remembrance of me,’ he agreed. ‘Is it too much to ask?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘And no.’ She took the packet from him and slipped it into her pocket.

‘Do you wish we had never met?’

She turned her head away, but not before he had seen she was biting her lip. Of course she must wish she had never met him. He had brought her nothing but heartache.

She turned back to him. The expression on the lovely face which showed too much of what she was thinking made his heart skip a beat.

‘I could never wish that, Robert. There’s a part of me still thinks there could be a way for us to find. Still thinks we could somehow run away with each other.’

‘We are both too sensible for that. For a moment, I had the same mad notion. Thought I could resign my commission, find other work, any kind of work. But I would not take you away from everything you know to lead a poverty-stricken existence somewhere else. Soldiering is the only trade I know. Nor would I subject you to the life my mother led, moving around Europe, never having somewhere she could call home, somewhere she could settle down and be happy. And a better future for Alice, Geordie and Joshua depends on us parting.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That must be our consolation.’

‘I have another. You are safe. Your father and your friends are safe. There will be no rebellion and no bloodshed in Scotland.’

When she said nothing in response, he spoke again. ‘You cannot find it in your heart to be glad about that?’

‘Glad that years of dreaming and hoping have come to nothing? Whole lifetimes of dreaming and hoping? No, I cannot find it in my heart to be glad about that!’

‘Och, Kirsty!’ he exclaimed. ‘Still? After all the risks you, your father and your friends took? I feared so much for you. So much! Can you not at least be glad your world will stay safe, be the same as it always has been?’

Her eyes flashed. ‘How can you say that? My world will never be the same again!’

‘Oh, come here!’

She was in his arms, her own wrapped about his neck as he bent his head to kiss her. The kiss was passionate, seeking, hungry. It seemed to last forever. Until they broke apart and stood gazing at each other.

‘I must go, Kirsty. I have to go.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed. Neither of them moved.

‘When I go,’ he said, ‘I won’t turn and look back. But if I do,’ he added illogically, ‘I don’t want to see you. It’s too cold for you to stay out here for much longer. So I want you to go back into the house, where it’s warm. Is that understood?’

‘Issuing orders until the end,’ she said sadly.

‘I want you to be warm. That’s all. I should always want you to be warm.’

He didn’t look back. She watched as he walked back through the physic garden. The last she saw of him was a flash of his grey cloak as he walked past the outhouses and went round the side of the house. When she could no longer hear his retreating footsteps she sank down onto the bench.

 

Betty found her there. Wearing her own cloak, the housekeeper was carrying one of the old plaids from the back of the kitchen door.

‘I know it’s cold but I want to sit here for a bit longer,’ Christian said, looking up at her.

Betty did not scold her for sitting on the frosty bench. Instead, she unfolded the plaid she was carrying and swirled it around Christian’s shoulders.

‘I’ll sit wi’ you. We’ll just sit here quietly together. For a wee minute. Then we’ll ging back intae the hoose.’

‘He’s gone, Betty. He’s gone.’

‘Aye, lass.’ Betty tucked the plaid around her and said nothing more.

Under her cloak, Christian slid one hand into her pocket and wrapped her fingers around the quilted roll which held the packet of sunflower seeds and the luckenbooth brooch. Two hearts entwined, surmounted by a crown. Small and dainty and beautifully wrought in silver.